


halcyon.

by PockyCookie



Category: Iron Maiden (Band), Megadeth, Metallica
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Mental Health Issues, Romance, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29765967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PockyCookie/pseuds/PockyCookie
Summary: For the longest time Elfie has only had her mother to rely on. Until one day, when her mother passes away and Elfie must cope on her own. Her mother has been keeping a lot of secrets and Eflie must now navigate a life without her mother.
Relationships: Dave Mustaine/Original Female Character(s), James Hetfield/Original Female Character(s)





	1. part one.

The camera sat on its stand, staring at me. I could vaguely see myself reflected in the lense. I was seated on my bed, toying with my bedsheets. The pink duvet was soft and I lifted my head to glance around my room. Mom would be up soon. I could hear her downstairs, preparing my medication. I could just about hear the lock on the drawers where she kept my medication. 

My eyes went to the alarm clock on my bedside table. The time read 07:00. My routine was always the same. My alarm would go at 07:00 and I’d wake up, perch on the end of my bed. Mom would already be awake. She always woke up before me. She’d go downstairs and unlock the cabinet where she kept my medication, then she’d come upstairs and watch over me as I took my medication. 

In total I would take about 6 tablets in the morning and 8 at night. Mom said the tablets helped with my conditions. Conditions, plural. Before I could continue that train of thought, Mom bustled into the room. Her blonde hair was tied back and she was wearing her usual yoga pants and plain t-shirt. She was carrying a tray with a glass of water balanced on one side and my medication in a neat line on the other side. 

“Good Morning, sweetie.” She beamed, leaning forward, pressing a motherly kiss to my own blonde hair. 

I managed a smile. She sat down next to me, setting the tray between us. I took the glass when she presented it to me. She handed me each tablet and I took each one. Once they were gone, Mom left my room and I got dressed, as usual. I combed my hair and put a small bow hair clip on one side. I slipped on my glasses and stood in front of the mirror. Mom would know I was finished. She always knew. 

Sure enough, she walked up the stairs and smiled when she saw me. 

“You know I love that outfit on you.” She said, walking towards the camera.

She was referring to my skinny jeans and Bring me the Horizon t-shirt. Had I ever listened to Bring me the Horizon? No, of course not. Mom despised any music that wasn’t gospel music. She had purchased the top for me online as she liked the aesthetic more than anything. 

“Your fans will love it, Elfie.” 

My fans were the people who watched my Youtube channel and my Twitch streams. The name Elfreda Beckett was synonymous with those things. Mom ran my Youtube channel where I tried on clothes, did my make up and avoided talking about my various illnesses. People seemed to know though. My appearance probably didn’t help. I was small, almost still a teenager in dress and height. Mom was tiny at 5’1 and I was just a little shorter than her. That’s where the similarities ended. Mom was round. Her body is thicker than mine. 

“We’ll have to do a stream in 2 days for your 21st.” Mom gushed.

She was setting up the camera, ready for today’s video. A few boxes sat in the corner of my room, filled with clothes. I went over and opened the first one, pulling out a black dress with cherry print on it. 

“Mom, is this one-” I started.

“Elfie, sit down and do your intro.” She snapped.

Mom only snapped if I was doing something wrong. I had been rushing so I went and sat on my bed and grabbed a Pikachu plushie, holding it for the intro to show her my initiative. 

“Good, that looks adorable,” Mom’s mood seemed to improve and I soaked up her compliment, liking being praised. “Right, Momma’s gonna record.”

She pressed the button on the camera and I straightened my back and smiled as cutely as I could muster. My cheeks hurt a little, but I couldn’t let Mom down. I cleared my throat.

“Hey guys, It’s Elfie,” I always had to pitch my voice slightly higher. “So, today I’m gonna be doing another try on haul. I’ve got some super cute dresses. I’m so excited.”

We continued the video with me trying on the clothes and showing them off. Mom smiled behind the camera. Every so often, Mom would rub her chest slightly. I tried not to let it worry me. If I became distracted Mom would find a way to punish me so I kept trying on and chatting away as if I was in front of my fans and showing off the outfits. 

Towards the end, Mom gave me a thumbs up. This was the only time I was allowed to speak about my illness without fear of Mom getting mad, but I wasn’t allowed to use its name as Mom felt like it would give people something other than my channel to talk about. Mom hated when people speculated about my illness. The only people she seemed to have no issue discussing it with were doctors, but I hadn’t seen a doctor in some time. 

“Guys, today is hidden disabilities day and I’d just like to say that you’re not alone and I’ll always support you.” I smiled, and pressed my thumbs and fingers together to form a heart. 

Mom turned off the camera and her smile was beatific. I soaked up Mom’s love like a sponge. When she was loving it made me so happy. We sparkled together and it felt like we were the only 2 people in the whole world.

“Right, I’m going to get your lunch and one of your PRN tablets.” She said. 

“Why?” I blurted out.

Mom’s face soured and I realised I’d asked the wrong question. Never question Mom, not ever. 

“Well, little miss expert, you looked like you were in a little pain, but since you know so much more than me you can go without.” She said, her tone clipped and on the edge of fury. 

“No, I’ll take it. You’re right. My face was hurting a little.” I said, quickly, showing her that I agreed. 

“And you could have another seizure like when you were little.” Mom said, softening her tone now. 

I perched on my bed and watched Mom leave the room. When she was gone, I walked to the window and stared across our expansive lawn. Down our drive was the gate. Past that were the other houses on our quiet suburban street. I couldn’t open my window. Mom had said that I could easily fall out of it if I had a seizure or became dizzy. 

I went back to my bed and sat down, picking up the same Pikachu as before. His little black eyes stared into my own and I smiled a little at his adorable face. I decided to go downstairs and help Mom. I walked into the hallway and was about to head downstairs when I heard something thud and a glass shattering made me jump. 

Had Mom dropped something. I rushed to the top of our curving staircase and peered down, trying to see Mom.

“Mom!” I shouted.

No response. I stayed rooted to the spot. She’d answer eventually. Mom was always ok. I waited for what felt like an eternity. 

“Mom, are you ok?” I tried again. No reply. 

I started down the stairs. They curved round and led into the main hallway. The kitchen was just opposite the lounge. I peeked into the kitchen and walked round the island where we sometimes had breakfast. Mom was lying on the linoleum. The glass was a few centimetres from her outstretched hand. I rushed over, but a wall of panic built up in my chest. What should I do? I didn’t know CPR.  
The phone? I could call an ambulance. I staggered to my feet and grabbed the phone off its wall mount and dialled 911, pressing it to my ear. 

“Please enter your verification code to make a call.” The phone said.

My fingers were soaked with sweat. I tried Mom’s birthday. Nothing. I tried my birthday. Nothing. I couldn’t remember my dad’s. I tried my brothers, but still nothing. By now I was sobbing and nearly dropped the phone. I decided it was useless so I put it on the side and rushed towards Mom. 

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m gonna go get help.” I sobbed, a few tears leaked onto her face, but she didn’t respond. 

The keys for the door locks were in the safe where my medication was kept and luckily the safe was open. I grabbed the keys and hurriedly tried them all in a bid to unlock the front door. Once I was outside I raced down our drive towards the wrought iron gate. I pressed the only button on the keys and the gate opened. I ran into the street, searching for another human to help me.

A man was strolling past with his alsation. I rushed towards him. He stopped when he saw me. His face scrunched up when he saw I was sobbing and hyperventilating. 

“P-p-please help. M-m-my Mom.” I gasped out. 

The man and his dog followed me up the drive and into my home. I guided him to the kitchen where Mom was still on the floor, still not moving. The guy took in the scene and pulled out his mobile. I watched him dial 911. 

“Hey, can I get an ambulance to Malcolm Drive cul-de-sac.” He said.

The person on the phone must have instructed him to start CPR as he began pushing on Mom’s chest and breathing into her mouth. The phone was next to him on the floor and I could hear the woman on the line shouting instructions. The man continued, meanwhile I sat in the corner, sobbing and petting his very friendly dog. 

After about 15 minutes of CPR, I could hear sirens. The man continued CPR and looked at me. 

“Go let the ambulance crew know we’re here.” He instructed.

I glanced at Mom’s limp form and stood, leaving him to continue CPR. The ambulance had pulled into the drive and the two paramedics climbed out. One was a man, the other a woman. 

“Is it your Mom, honey?” The woman asked.

I nodded mutely and they followed me into the home I shared with my Mom. The paramedics took over CPR. They connected wires to Mom. They checked everything. They left then came back with a stretcher. They managed to get Mom onto the stretcher. I followed them because Mom would surely want me there. 

On the way there, I sat with the lady paramedic in the back. Mom lay on the stretcher between us. 

“What’s your name?” The lady paramedic asked.

I almost didn’t answer as Mom hated when I spoke to strangers, but Mom was asleep so it must be ok to talk to the paramedic. I wet my dry lips. 

“I’m Elfreda Beckett.” I replied.

“What a beautiful name. I’m Tina.” The lady paramedic said.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tina.” I said, politely. Mom always said to be polite.

Tina smiled, then pushed her glasses up her nose. 

“Has Mom been feeling poorly recently?” She asked.

“I don’t, I’m not sure.” I mumbled. 

The hospital, Alvarado Medical Centre was up ahead. I had been to the hospital a few times with Mom. The ambulance pulled into the emergency parking. Tina and the other paramedic leapt into action and wheeled Mom away. 

I was left to sit in the waiting room. There were other people in the waiting room. A mother and her baby were in one corner. A gentleman was pacing the waiting area, eyes wild and hair unkempt. I avoided looking at him. Instead, I stared at the door where they’d taken Mom. Time dragged on and the woman and her baby were called by a nurse. Eventually the doors opened and a man walked over. He was wearing a plain blue shirt and black slacks. A lanyard hung round his neck. He approached me and his face was eerily calm. 

“Elfreda?” He said my name, so he must have come to take me to Mom. “May I have a word in private?”

I nodded and he stood, motioning for me to follow him through the doors and down a corridor. He guided me into a small room. A desk was in the far corner as were two plush chairs. He sat in the one nearest the desk and I sat in the other. 

“Elfreda, may I call you that?” He asked.

“Yes, my Mom usually calls me Elfie.” I replied.

He nodded, then leaned back in the chair. 

“My name is Dr. Garcia,” He said, then continued. “Unfortunately, Elfreda, your mother has had a major heart attack brought on by a blocked artery.” 

“But you fixed it, right?” I asked.

Dr. Garcia suddenly looked stricken. He didn’t smile and nod. He didn’t say Mom was doing ok now. 

“Your mother passed away. She was non-responsive on arrival and passed shortly after.” 

My whole world slowed down to a crawl and Dr. Garcia became a blur of facial features.


	2. part two.

A week dragged by after Mom’s death. The night she died, I had gone back to our home and sat on the kitchen floor, staring at the spot where she’d been. I wanted time to tick backwards. I couldn’t do anything without Mom. Stuff that adults did, I couldn’t do. Mom did the cooking. Mom cleaned the house. Mom handled all that stuff. 

The week started with the police coming round to confirm that Mom’s death had been from natural causes. The two officers walked round the house, looking at everything. They stared at the locks on the doors, eyed the cabinets with locks on and looked at me with sympathy when they saw there were bars on some of the windows. For the first time, I felt like Mom had gone overboard then remembered that Mom did everything because she loved me. 

My birthday passed and I barely thought about it. The following Monday I got a phone call. I had found the code for the phone in the safe, which to me felt like some kind of joke. I answered and dialled in the code, my dad’s birthday.

“Good Morning, am I speaking to Ms Elfreda Beckett?” It was a man. 

“Yes.” I murmured.

“Hello, Elfreda. I’m Mr Edward Kellings, your mother’s lawyer,” His voice sounded kind. “I’d very much like to come by and talk.”

Not knowing what to say or do. I thought about it for a moment and was about to ask Mom what I should do. Tears blurred my vision when I realised I was alone now. 

“Yes, I suppose that’s ok.” I murmured, voice cracking under the tears. 

“I will nip round this afternoon. There are a few things I need to discuss because of your mother’s passing.” He said, softly.

All I could do was agree with this sentiment. 

***************

“Would you like a drink?” I asked. 

Mr Edward Kellings smiled. He was a small man with greying hair and a beard.   
“I am ok at the moment, thank you though, Elfreda.” He said. 

I had never met Mr Kellings. Mom must have kept him secret. I couldn’t figure out why. We told each other everything. Why was she keeping a secret like this? I sat opposite Mr Kellings and he opened his briefcase and laid out a few pieces of paper.

“Shall we begin?” He asked.

I nodded and he cleared his throat.

“Your mother took out a life insurance policy back when you were born. That policy will be paid out now. Her bank account with your Youtube money will also go to you.” He said, clearing his throat again.

I stared at him in confusion. What money? Mom had never mentioned that I made money off Youtube. She managed my account, uploaded the videos. Despite the account being in my name I wasn’t allowed to watch other Youtubers. Mom didn’t like them and had banned me from social media. She took photos of me for my 1 million followers on Instagram and added captions. She ran my Twitter and added promos for my videos. I made money off Twitch streaming, usually about $5000 a month. That was the money Mom and I used to live off. 

This was another secret Mom had kept from me. I stared at Mr Kellings and he must have noticed my discomfort. As far as I was concerned the money from Twitch kept us afloat. 

“And the house?” I asked, because I would need to live somewhere. 

“Rented as far as your mother told me.” Mr Kellings replied. 

“Will I have to leave?” I said, and he looked sadly at me. 

“That is entirely your decision, Elfreda,” He said. “You have lived here for a long time.”

My eyes flicked to the kitchen where Mom had collapsed and I realised I hated going into the kitchen. It was like reliving the moment over and over. 

“How would I go about leaving? Where would I go?” I asked.

Mr Kellings handed me a copy of the life insurance policy and my Mom’s will. I wasn’t sure what to do with these random bits of paper.

“Those are your copies. As for your mother’s bank account, you will need to take her card and paperwork to the bank with your birth certificate and request it be changed to your name.” He said.

“And the house?” I asked.

“You will need to contact your landlord and request to terminate your tenancy. This will give you 30 days to find somewhere else to live. I will assist you in finding a new place.” Mr Kellings replied.

“Do I just go into the bank?” I asked, confusion creeping into my voice.

Mr Kellings sighed. I hoped I wasn’t a burden to him. It felt like I was. 

“Shall I be an advocate for you?” He said.

“Will you help me find a place to go and help with the bank?” I really hoped he’d say yes. 

Thankfully Mr Kellings agreed and contacted my landlord himself. He discussed terminating my tenancy. He went home after that and agreed to meet me in the morning to go to the bank and then to find a new home for me. That night I avoided the kitchen again and hid in my room. My plan was to take my bedroom furniture, but leave everything else for the landlord. 

***********

The next few days Mr Kellings came to the house and picked me up in his Mini Cooper. We went to the bank and changed the name on my Mom’s account. It was here I discovered my Mom had been hoarding my money and there was $200,000 in the account. It was an insane amount of money. Why had she kept it secret from me? I was informed that the life insurance would add $65,000 to it. 

Then we left the bank and made our way to a realtors to find a place for me. Mr Kellings knew what he was doing and searched through the listings and made sure the place would be up to standard. My new apartment would be Casa Le Mesa. These were 2 storey apartments. Mine would be number 5, a ground floor apartment. My rent would be $1800 a month. These apartments were close to local amenities and were safe. That was all that mattered. 

Mr Kellings contacted the old landlord again and explained I’d be out within 30 days and that the house would be partially furnished. This seemed to please the landlord. I was just happy to be getting out of the house and away from the place where my mother died. 

***********

Time passed quickly. I moved out of the old house gradually and into my new apartment. I still had to arrange Mom’s funeral. As far as I knew it would just be me attending. Mom had a sister named Gail, but Mom and Auntie Gail hadn’t been in touch for years. Mom used to call Aunt Gail names and criticise her constantly. I had no idea how to get in touch with my Auntie or what I’d say to her. 

On the day I finally handed the keys back to the old landlord and Mr Kellings drove me to Casa Le Mesa I cried in the car. Mr Kellings handed me some tissues. We got to the apartments and he walked me to the door. The movers were putting my stuff inside the apartment. Mr Kellings smiled at me. He handed me a piece of paper.

“My fee.” He said. 

I opened the piece of paper to find that his total was quite a lot less than expected. I looked at him to protest. 

“But shouldn’t it be more?” I asked.

“It should, but it would be unethical of me to take advantage of you, Elfie.” He reached out and shook my hand.

“Thank you.” My voice broke and he patted my shoulder. 

“If you need anything please don’t hesitate to contact me,” He smiled. “This is also for you. A gift from Mrs Kellings.” 

He handed me a bag. Inside was a knitted jumper and a recipe book. I sobbed and he took my hand, shaking it. He turned and left. I was alone on the path leading to my apartment. I turned and walked inside. The front door led straight into the lounge. I had no sofa yet. I didn’t want the one from the old house. Mom had sat on it. The only room that had my stuff was the bedroom. 

Inside my bed was against the wall. Boxes were scattered around. I decided I’d sort that out after I’d eaten. Back at the old house I’d been surviving on snacks I had in my room. I walked round the apartment, through my closet and back into the lounge. The lounge led into the kitchen. Everything was shiny and new. I was still clutching the bag that Mr Kellings had given me. I sat on the kitchen floor and pulled the recipe book out. I opened it and read down the lists of ingredients for things. I’d snagged the microwave, kettle and kitchen utensils from the old house, but I still needed to learn to cook. Mom had never taught me. 

Mr Kellings had told me there were local amenities around the apartments. There was no harm in exploring. Mom would protest. 

“There are bad people out there, Elfie.” 

It took me ten minutes to calm my breathing and I ended up burying my head between my knees. My heart pounded and it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Eventually when I felt a little calmer I got up and made my way to the front door. I put the bag from Mr Kellings on the floor in the hallway and picked up my handbag. I double, triple checked my purse was inside with my shiny new bank card. Never had I owned anything that was out right mine and now I rented an apartment and had my own card. 

I left the apartment and locked the door with my key. A well maintained path led down towards the gates. I turned left and made my way down the road, following it down. On the opposite side of the road was Mystic Grill takeawayA sign outside advertised authentic Mediterenean food. On the same side I was on was a 7/11. That seemed like the best place to get something. Mom would insist on something healthy. I walked towards the 7/11 and the sliding doors parted. 

I had never been in a 7/11 before. A counter was at the far end and two guys were talking. The one behind the counter had long dark hair, tied back. The other guy also had long hair, but it hung loose around his shoulders and was a mousey colour. Mom would warn me not to talk to people like this. 

“Excuse me?”I asked as I approached. Both men stopped talking. 

“Can I help you?” The one behind the counter said. 

“Wow, customer service voice.” The other one laughed.

“Shut the fuck up, Bruce.” The first snapped, then turned his gaze back on me. “Well?”

“Do you sell healthy food here?” I asked.

They both exchanged a look. Was what I asked a bad question? 

“We sell food in the loosest sense of the word.” The guy behind the counter replied. 

“Um...thank you.” I murmured. 

I guessed that I’d have to find the food by myself. I turned and walked down one of the aisles and stopped. This aisle had chips on one side and chocolate on the other. Where was all the healthy stuff? Like the stuff Mom would make for dinner that she said would help my condition. 

“Psst.” A voice made me jump and I glanced round. 

The guy with mousey hair was leaning on one of the end aisles. I looked left and right. Was he speaking to me? 

“I could help you.” He said. His tone was friendly.   
“S-sure.” I smiled.

“Bruce, quit harassing the customers, you arse.” The other guy shouted. I glanced at him to find he was reading a book, but also half paying attention to us. 

“Ignore Steve. He’s only grumpy because he’s working a double shift.” Bruce smiled. 

I followed him down one aisle and he stopped at a load of packets. They were noodles. Was this healthy? I frowned at Bruce. 

“They’re not totally healthy, but ramen noodles are good when you don’t know how to cook and you strike me as a girl that doesn’t know how to cook.” He smiled, revealing slightly crooked teeth. 

“Y-yeah, I can’t cook. My Mom used to do all that stuff.” I replied. 

I was about to tell him what happened, but Mom’s voice tangled itself into my mind. 

“Don’t trust him, Elfie.”

I picked up a few packets of noodles and we walked back to the counter. I grabbed a Hershey's chocolate bar, then put it back, feeling guilty. I picked it up again, finally deciding I deserved it. I checked my watch and realised I’d need to get back to take my medication. 

The guy at the counter, Steve, scanned my items. My eyes flicked to the book he had been reading. Dune. I’d never heard of it. He saw me staring at it, but made no comment. 

“That’ll be $3.50.” He said. “Will you be paying by card?”

“I can pay by card?” I asked, amazed.

“What are you? Some kind of martian? Of course you can pay by card.” Steve replied.

I opened my purse and went to hand him my card. He pointed at a machine on the side of the counter. I held my card over it and it beeped. 

“Remove your card.” Steve said.

I lowered the card and put it back in my purse. That was so quick and easy. I smiled for the first time in ages. I’d purchased food for myself. 

“Thank you.” I smiled.

“Would you like a receipt?” Steve asked,  
I frowned at that. A receipt. Mom usually had some of them in her purse. I nodded and he handed me a scrap of paper. I stuffed it in my purse. I grabbed the bag full of noodles and started to leave. I glanced back at the two men. 

“Um.. thank you.” I said, and left. 

I had managed to buy food and that to me was an achievement. I made my way back to the apartment.


	3. part three.

My first struggle came two days later when I realised I was four days away from running out of tablets. I didn’t want to be a nuisance, but I realised I’d need help with this. I got up from the kitchen floor since I still hadn’t ordered a couch and had no idea how to get one. I would probably have no visitors anyway. I was a lone girl with zero family that I could contact and no friends. Unless you counted 1 million random people that watched my Youtube. 

I had spent an hour counting my tablets to see what I could do. Short of taking the tablets every other day, there wasn’t much I could do. I dug around in my handbag and pulled out Mr Kellings number and walked to the phone. It sat in its cradle and I picked it up, expecting to hear it demand that I enter a code. The only thing that greeted me was a dial tone. I keyed in Mr Kellings’ number and listened to the ring. My palms were slick and I felt like I couldn’t take a big enough breath.

“Hello, Kellings residence.” A woman had answered.

“Good Morning, is Mr Edward Kellings available?” I asked.

“I’m sorry he’s at the office now,” The woman said, kindly. “Who may I say is calling?”

“My name is Elfreda Beckett. Mr Kellings helped me recently.” I replied.

“Oh, Elfie, hello. Are you ok? Did the sweater fit ok?” The woman’s tone became even gentler.

“Are you Mrs Kellings? Thank you for the sweater and book.” I said, and I could visualise her smiling. 

“Yes, please call me Isadora. Are you struggling with something?” Mrs Kellings said, her tone became a little more serious as though she was ready to help me.

“I only have 4 days of tablets left. How do I get more?” I asked.

“You’ll need your repeat prescription. It should come with your medication everytime you collect.” Mrs Kellings said, 

I asked her to hold whilst I dug around in the box I’d emptied Mom’s safe into. My medication had been in the safe along with the passwords to my Youtube account and Twitch channel as well as all my socials. There were no repeat prescriptions or anything that looked like it was used to order medication. I didn’t want to leave Mrs Kellings waiting so I rushed back to the phone and held it to my ear.  
“Any luck, sweetheart?” She asked.

“No, I can’t see anything to order medication. What should I do?”I said, panic setting in. Maybe I’d misplaced the paperwork, but that didn’t seem possible.

“I believe you’ll have to contact your doctor.” She suggested.

I didn’t have a regular doctor. Mom used to take me to various doctors, usually she’d say that something about my treatment was not good and we’d move onto the next doctor. Sometimes we’d even go out of state just to speak to a certain doctor. As such I’d never had a permanent physician. I told Mrs Kellings this and she suggested I would need to register at a doctors. 

There was a doctors that was about 30 minutes away by bus and that bus ran every 30 minutes. Mrs Kellings advised me to catch the bus and take my documents to the doctor to get registered. I declined her offer to help more as it felt like I was a burden. I exchanged goodbyes with Mrs Kellings-Isadora-and gathered my birth certificate and my mobile. 

*****************

It was a drizzly morning as I waited for the bus on University Avenue, I hadn’t thought to check the times. I was unused to having a mobile phone that was all mine so I didn’t use it much. The bus appeared ten minutes later and the doors opened. 

“How much is a ticket to get to Kaiser medical offices?” I asked.

The driver scowled at me,”It’ll cost ya $4.50 for a two way journey. Ya get off at Vons supermarket.” 

“O-ok then, two way, please.” I handed him a $5 bill and he accepted, handing me back my change and ticket. 

I shuffled past the driver and searched for a seat. There was an empty one on the right so I sat down. The bus slid away from the pavement. The journey made my breathing difficulties start again. What if I missed the stop? Thankfully I didn’t. 

When I got to the doctors I joined the queue and was then seated in a waiting area. After having my details taken and my birth certificate copied, I was finally registered. There was just the matter of my medication and how much it would cost. Apparently I would have to have a chat with one of the doctors before I would be given a prescription. 

“You can trust the doctors, Elfie.” Mom’s voice floated through my head. 

My name pinged onto the screen above the archway and I got up and headed to one of the consultation rooms. I tapped on the door and a woman opened it. I was surprised. Mom always told me that doctors were men. 

“Elfreda Beckett?” She smiled when I nodded. “Come in. I’m Dr Calloway.”

I sat on the chair opposite her and Dr Calloway seated herself opposite me. She was younger than I initially thought although she had lines from where she smiled.

“So, according to my computer you require some medication. Could you tell me what medication and what your condition is?” She had tapped a few keys on her computer then looked at me expectantly. 

“Well, Mom said I have autoimmune Encephalitis,” I said, and Dr Calloway frowned. “I take medication for the symptoms, but Mom said there was no cure.”

“When was this diagnosed?” Dr Calloway asked. 

“Mom said when I was very little.”

“Do you remember which physician diagnosed you? Do you remember having a procedure called a lumbar puncture where they test your spinal fluid for an antibody called NMDA?” She asked, leaning closer.

“No, I don’t remember any of that.” I replied.

“Maybe you were too young,” She guessed, but she sounded doubtful. “Autoimmune Encephalitis is quite rare.”

“That’s what Mom said.” I replied. 

“If you don’t mind, Elfreda, may I see your medication?” She asked, and I was stunned. Did she need to know what I was on so she could order it?

I pulled out the bottles of pills and she picked each one up and analysed a tablet from each one. She looked at the bottles. There were no labels on the bottles and she frowned.

“Where are the labels?” She asked.

“I don’t know.” I replied, and she set the tablet she was looking at down. 

“Elfreda, I would like to book you an emergency appointment at the local hospital for a lumbar puncture and an ultrasound to rule out any tumours as well as an MRI. You will need to stay in overnight for the tests to be done. Do you have health insurance?” She began typing rapidly.   
Mr Kellings had arranged health insurance for me so I told her I had it. She nodded and then opened her desk and pulled out a pamphlet. The front read ‘Lumbar Puncture: What to know about the procedure.’ 

“Your appointment is for tomorrow morning at 10am. I’d also recommend fasting as you’ll likely have a blood test.” She smiled again. 

I left the office with my pill bottles and the pamphlet. I was more confused than I’d ever been. I couldn’t stand the thought of taking the bus back. It had stopped raining so I started walking back home. I knew it’d take about 50 minutes to walk back to the apartment. 

I ambled home in a daze. Every so often I’d glance at my phone, using a map app to guide my way back. It was pretty standard to follow the road. I got to the end of University Avenue with the Jack in the Box takeaway on the corner. I looked left then right and walked across the road. I got halfway when a horn blared. A car lurched to a stop right in front of me. My hand touched the red car. My eyes flicked up and behind the wheel was a woman. 

I was close enough to see her wide, green eyes. She looked kind of how I felt. She flung open the car door and rushed out. The car behind her vehicle drove round and beeped at her. She made a gesture with her middle finger then looked at me. 

“Oh my God, are you ok?” She asked.

“What the fuck, Leila?” The passenger door opened and a guy climbed out.

His hair was long and blonde, a very fair blonde. He rounded the vehicle and I stepped back. I immediately felt bad. I could have damaged their car. 

“I-i’m so sorry.” I said, voice breaking.

The woman took in my appearance and her eyes flicked to my lumbar puncture pamphlet. She glanced at the guy. 

“Jamie, park the car in Jack’s.” She said.

The guy huffed and walked round to the driver’s side. He climbed in and steered the car around us. The woman linked arms with me and walked me out of the middle of the road, much to the relief of oncoming traffic. This woman, this stranger walked me towards the restaurant and we entered. A waitress greeted us. 

“Welcome to Jack in the Box. How many to a table?” She smiled.

“Three.” The woman said. 

Why were we here? Were they going to demand I buy them food to compensate for me being in the way? The waitress guided us to a table. The woman sat down and the door opened. The guy joined us. 

“I’m so incredibly sorry for nearly running ya over.” The woman said. Looking at her now, she looked young, maybe a few years older than me. 

“It’s ok. I’m sorry for not looking where I was going.” I mumbled, feeling bad that this whole situation was happening.

“Please, Leila came round the corner like she was drivin’ for NASCAR.” The guy chuckled.

Leila tilted her head and glared at him,”Screw you Jamie. I’m still learning.”

I watched them bicker and realised they must be a couple. Leila stopped the bickering first and smiled at me. 

“To atone for nearly running ya over, let me buy you something to eat or drink. No offense, but you look like you need it and I’d feel shit just letting you walk away.” She said.

I started to protest, but she stopped me. I glanced at the guy she called Jamie and he seemed a bit more relaxed. 

Leila handed me a menu and I glanced at the food and tried to find the cheapest thing I could. We ordered food and I felt a little awkward about all this.

“So, Elfie, was it?” Leila asked. I nodded and she continued. “How long have you lived in La Mesa?”

“I’ve lived at a house in Malcolm Drive for most of my life.” I replied, and Leila and Jamie exchanged a look.

“Did you graduate from Grossmont?” Leila asked. 

“No, I was homeschooled.” I said.

Again she and Jamie exchanged a glance. 

“Is this yer first time in a restaurant?” Jamie asked. 

He didn’t sound angry or like he was mocking me. Did I really stand out so much? 

“Mom did all the cooking. She said my health could be affected if I ate ‘bad’ food.” I murmured.

Leila was chewing her lip and watching me. I could see the pity in her glass coloured eyes and it made me squirm in my seat. When the food came, we ate in relative silence. Leila got up and nipped to the toilet, A part of me panicked. I didn’t know where the bathroom was. Jamie cleared his throat and I looked at him. 

“I’m sorry for coming off as really aggressive earlier, must have freaked ya out,” He smiled, awkwardly. “It’s James, by the way. Leila’s the only one that calls me Jamie.”

“I’m really sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you and Leila.” I said, and he chuckled a little.

“Don’t be stupid. We wouldn’t have bought ya food if it were any trouble.” He insisted.

Leila came back and sat down next to James. She smiled at me and it was infectious. Her energy made me happy for some reason. 

“I guess we’d best get home to feed Buster.” James said, and Leila nodded. Her searching gaze landed on me again. 

“Elfie, I always believe things happen for a reason.” She pulled out a receipt and scribbled something on the back, then handed it to me. 

It was a phone number, I looked at it then at Leila. She was smiling in a carefree way. 

“Why did you-?” I asked and she waved her hand dismissively. 

“No one deserves to go through shit alone,” She said, and I felt the prickle of tears behind my eyes. “Text me. It was fate that we met.”

“Was it really? Fate that you nearly ran Elfie over?” James laughed, and Leila punched his arm playfully.

The bill came and they paid and insisted on driving me up the road to Casa Le Mesa. I waved at them as they drove away and looked at the receipt with the number on it. Who was I to deny fate?


	4. part four.

The following morning I took a cab to Alvarado medical. I was promptly whisked to a room and given a hospital gown. First I had a blood test. Then I was left to sit for a while. The doctor came in and told me that my bloods were normal. I thought this was odd, but didn’t press the issue. He was the doctor and knew more than me. Next I was put in a wheelchair and taken for an MRI. 

It was like being in a noisy tunnel. Apparently it scanned images of my brain. I was taken back to my room. Several hours later after I’d eaten some dinner, a different doctor appeared and informed me that my MRI had come back as normal. My dinner felt like it was coming back up, but I swallowed and he talked through everything with me. Mom always said to trust doctors, but then she had always said I was poorly too. 

“I’m very reluctant to put you through for a lumbar puncture, Ms Beckett.” The doctor said. His name tag read Dr. Clement. 

“Why?” I asked, and he smiled in a reassuring way, 

“The MRI shows no swelling on your brain, which is something that occurs in patients’ with autoimmune encephalitis. A lumbar puncture is quite traumatic. I’m fairly confident there are no abnormalities within your brain.” He said, then stopped, watching me. 

“Then what’s wrong with me? Why do I need medication?” I bleated.

I was aware it was now close to 7pm at night and I was arguing with a trained medical professional. 

“You are physically healthy,” Dr Clement replied.”However, I would like the mental health team to come and have a chat with you, if that’s ok.”

“I mean, yeah that’s fine.” I said, wetting my dry lips and nearly sobbing. What had Mom done?

“Could I please have your tablets, Ms Beckett?” Dr Clement asked.

I leaned over my bed side and grabbed my bag. I handed over all that remained of my tablets and he looked at them with scepticism. I couldn’t figure out why. He left with them. Half an hour later two women came in and introduced themselves as being from the mental health team. 

They sat with me and asked me about myself, my Mom, my life, whether I heard voices and the list went on. Eventually they asked if my insurance covered counselling and I said it did as Mr Kellings had been quite thorough with my insurance. I was to attend counselling every week. Why did I need counselling? This time I was given leaflets about depression, anxiety and a thicker leaflet about something called FDIA. I stared at it and then back at the mental health ladies. I flicked through the leaflet. Did they think Mom made up my illness? But why would Mom do that? She loved me. 

“N-n-no, she wouldn’t purposely make me ill. Mom loved me. I loved her.” This time I did cry. 

I broke down in front of these two ladies. I sobbed until my eyes burned and my throat ached. One of the ladies handed me a tissue and a drink of water. I sipped the water. I figured, more water, more tears. I continued to cry until there was nothing left. The mental health ladies eventually left. From that point on, a nurse would peek in at me every half hour. I sat on the bed, reading and rereading the leaflet about FDIA.

My feelings went from denial to fury, then back again. By 7am the next morning I hadn’t slept and had spent my night in agony. I was given one last meeting with another doctor. He discharged me, handed me a letter with my itemised bill inside and another letter with details of my counselling next week. I walked back home even though it was a twenty minute walk. 

When I got back, I opened my letter and checked my bill. I had enough money to pay my bill, but that didn’t matter. I’d give anything to know what Mom had been thinking. Why had she lied to me so much? Did she not love me? 

“Of course I love you, honey.”

Her voice, sickly sweet and simpering filled my head. I lowered my head again, resting my forehead on my knees. 

“N-n-no, you liar.” I sobbed.

Suddenly I didn’t care about Mom’s funeral. She had lied so much. Why couldn;t she have been honest with me? I stayed on the kitchen floor for ages and then lifted my phone. I swiped to open it and for the first time, I logged into my Youtube account. I watched my last video back. It was a try on haul. The me in the video was smiling and showing off a dress from a brand called DollsKill. 

I read through the comments and found that there were a lot of the same:

‘Wheres Elfie? Do U think shes ok?’

‘I heard she got rushed to hospital. My cousin lives near her and said there was an ambulance at her house.’

‘Ewww, your cousin is a creep. Mind your own business.’

‘Elfie, please come back. I love you. Your the most beautiful girl, my skinny queen.’

I stopped reading after that and scratched my head. I couldn’t come back to Youtube like this. I needed time and people needed an explanation since they’d invested their time on me. I didn’t want to get my camera so I held the phone up and opened the camera app. 

I started recording and sighed. I decided I wouldn’t edit it since Mom used to do all that. I was about to pitch my voice when I realised I didn’t have to anymore. Mom was no longer around to chastise me. 

“Hey guys, it’s me. Thank you for your concern, but at this point in time I’d like to request some privacy, As of right now I will be taking an indefinite break from Youtube and Twitch. Something has changed in my personal life and I need time and space to deal with this. Thank you so much for supporting me and my channel. Thank you for the love and care you have shown me. I will be back, but I do need time. Love you all and see you soon.” I did half a heart with my free hand and shared the video to Youtube. 

I didn’t bother with a thumbnail and just named the video ‘Message to my fans.’ The video downloaded and went live on my channel. I sat there for a while and then lifted my phone to check the time. Youtube was still open and the comments were flooding in:

‘OMG, stay safe, queen.’

‘We love u, take care of urself, girl.’

‘Told you all something was going on.’

‘Don’t worry, my skinny queen, your still perfect to me. Message me, pls. I can help.’

I shut the app and muted notifications. If I was going to heal I needed to do it without 1 million people watching me. I signed onto my Twitter and was swamped with messages. I then found that my name was trending. I closed Twitter and then checked Instagram, more messages and comments. It was too much. I closed the apps and decided to leave them alone for a while. I’d post again, but I wanted it to be me, the me that I wanted to become, not the me that Mom had made me. 

I was exhausted. I got up and had a glass of water then went to my room. I spent a good fews hours organising and flattening boxes until my room was the way I wanted it. I stared at my cutesy sheets and realised I wanted something different. That could wait though. I flopped onto my bed and closed my sore eyes.

I must have dozed for a while, but a sudden noise woke me. It sounded like something turning on upstairs. I hadn’t met my upstairs neighbour yet. When I first moved in, the curtains were shut upstairs. I stared at the ceiling and waited. Nothing happened. I laid my head back down and closed my eyes. A sound burst through my doze. It sounded loud. I realised it was an instrument of some kind. I lifted my phone. It was nearly half nine. Whoever was above me did something to the instrument and it made a grinding noise. I awoke properly and realised it was a guitar. It sounded loud. I waited to see what would happen next. My neighbour played a few notes and I listened closely. 

I felt a little upset that they’d disturbed me, but I enjoyed listening to them play the guitar. This continued for about half an hour then my neighbour stopped. I heard the same sound of something being unplugged. I wanted to introduce myself. Maybe now was a good time. I went to the door, slipping on my sneakers as I did.

I peeked out the small window in my hallway and then I heard the front door upstairs slam. The stairs went adjacent to my window. A figure came down the steps and I ducked slightly lower in case they saw me spying. I saw a mass of flame coloured hair as the guy came down the stairs. His back was to me. I watched as he bent his head and when he looked up, a trail of smoke floated upwards. He was a smoker. Mom always hated that. 

He was wearing a white t-shirt except the sleeves went down to his elbows. He was also wearing skinny jeans and a pair of hi-top sneakers. I watched him pull out his phone and start talking into it. He hung up and then turned round. I ducked down more, but it didn’t seem like he could see me. He was handsome in a rough way. I lowered myself to the floor and gulped a little. I peeked out the window again and watched as he got into a car. 

******************

My chance would come to meet my mysterious neighbour when I exited my apartment 2 days later to try and go to Vons. I had secured myself a bus pass that I could put credit on and scan when I boarded and this filled me with confidence. I locked my door and double, triple checked my lock. A letter was suddenly dangled in my face and jumped backwards into a firm body. 

I whirled round to find my neighbour staring at me. His eyes were an odd mix of colours. A kind of mix between brown and green. That hair was the colour of fire. His lips were quirked upwards, not in a smile, but an amused mockery of one. 

“Hey, new girl, some of your post came through my door.” He said. His voice was deep, but melodic. 

He held out the letter for me and I took it, then my eyes flitted up to look at him. He was tall. I realised that I only came up to just below his shoulders. 

“I-i was going to come and introduce myself. I’m Elfreda. I heard you playing guitar last night.” I smiled. 

“Elfreda? Did your parents hate you or somethin?’ As for the guitar, I ain’t turning that shit down. The guy who lived here before tried, but you’re welcome to try too, new girl.” He smirked. 

“N-n-no, I liked it. You must be very talented.” I said, and he quirked a brow at me. 

His eyes analysed me, like he thought I was making fun of him. He looked like he wanted to say something else, instead he turned and walked down the slope.

“See you round, new girl.” He called.

I watched him go. He walked left at the end of the road. I stared at the letter he had given me. It was addressed to me, but the handwriting was a scrawl. I opened it and all it was was a series of weird pictures and a photo of a dead rose. I glanced around and then went down the slope too, heading to the bus stop.


	5. part five.

The weekend rolled around and it felt like I’d wasted my week. I’d spent the beginning of the week in hospital. Mr Kellings had phoned me back and listened to everything that had happened. He swore that he had no idea what Mom had done and I believed him. He had said he still felt guilty so he offered to contact a funeral provider to get Mom’s funeral out of the way. This was fine with me.

I still woke up at 07:00 even on a Saturday morning. For about an hour I stayed lying on the bed, half expecting Mom to walk in and berate me for being lazy. She never showed and she never would. I wanted desperately to try and cook something from the recipe book I’d been given, but was too afraid of making mistakes. 

Instead I got up and showered. I washed my hair and took my time, standing under the spray of water and crying again. I cried a lot lately. I didn’t want to cry in front of anyone ever again so I cried in the shower. At least my tears could be mistaken for water. I stared down at my body. Years of under eating had left me underweight according to Dr Clement and the other doctors at the hospital. 

I got out the shower and toweled off. I wiped my hand over the bathroom mirror and my own pale face stared back at me. There were dark circles under my eyes that I had stopped covering with makeup. I leaned my head forward and touched my fingers to my hair roots where the blonde was slowly being stripped away. Brown roots showed though. My natural hair colour. The same colour as my dad’s.

Did I want to re-dye my hair? No, I did not. It would mean bleaching it again and Mom was the one that did that. She would do my hair and hers. Touching my hair made me realise how dry it was. Another thing Mom had damaged. 

I got dressed and went to my fridge. Stuck to it was a piece of paper from one of the nurses from the mental health team. It was a chart that reminded me to eat three meals a day. Breakfast was no problem. I opened the fridge and grabbed the milk, then opened the cupboard and poured some Fruit Loops in a bowl. My first act of rebellion. Mom said porridge or All-Bran was the best and healthiest way to start the day. 

I ate my Fruit Loops and washed my bowl because Mom always liked things to be clean. Next I opened the cupboard and stared at the remaining packets of ramen noodles. I should probably get some more. For some reason Vons didn’t sell as many varieties as 7/11. I got dressed in a t-shirt and skinny jeans and left my apartment. 

This would be my second visit to 7/11 and the nerves I’d had before were still there, but not as bad. As I locked my apartment door, I stepped back and tilted my head to look up the stairs at my neighbour’s apartment. It occurred to me that I had given him my name, but he hadn’t told me his. The curtains were drawn and I wondered if he was home. I decided that I didn’t want to be a nuisance.

“Don’t make a nuisance of yourself, sweetie. Besides, why would he be interested in you.”

Mom’s voice usually made an appearance throughout the day. She would talk to me and sneer at things I did. I couldn’t tell if it happened because I missed her or because she couldn’t let go of me, even in death. I walked down the street, watching cars speed by. 

7/11 wasn’t busy. The doors opened and I walked in, heading to the noodles again. I peeked around the shelves at the counter. The guy from the other day was here. He was still reading and hadn’t seemed to notice me or care that I was there. I picked up a few packets of noodles and then meandered past the drinks section. Grape Shasta was tempting. I picked up a six pack and made my way to the checkout. 

The guy from the other day looked up as I approached. He closed the book and moved it to the side. I remembered his name was Steve and his accent was different to the American I was used to. He scanned the items I’d chosen and bagged them up. My eyes went to his book. Not Dune this time, but ‘The Way of Kings.’

He cleared his throat and I realised he’d asked me something. 

“Cash or card?” He said, somewhat impatiently. 

“Card, please.” I murmured, and pulled my card out, scanning it over the machine. 

I thought he’d just hand me my bag and not say anything else, but he pushed the bag forward, eyeing me curiously. 

“You seem pretty interested in my book. Have you read it?” He asked.

My eyes flicked from the book then back to him. I shook my head and I thought our conversation would end there, with him realising I was just an idiot who hadn’t read hardly any books. 

“You buy a lot of noodles. Are you, like, living on them or something?” He said, then continued. “I know Bruce said they’re nice, but they’re not substantial, plus Bruce is an arse.” 

“I don’t know how to cook.” I confessed. 

“We have microwavable meals,” He said, then pointed at the freezers. “Over there. They probably have the same nutritional quality as a turd, but they’re more filling than just noodles.”

“Oh.” I replied, because I wasn’t sure what else to say.

I shuffled towards the freezers and selected a few meals. I took them over and paid for them. Before I left I paused.

“Thank you.” I said.

“Whatever,” Steve replied. “Don’t leave just yet.”

He opened a door behind the counter and when he came back, he walked round the counter. He was wearing a red uniform shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans with chains hanging from one pocket. He was holding something and he paused in front of me, handing me a book. It was Dune. The book from the other day. I held it in my hands. It was a weighty book. I stared at it then at him.

“Don’t give it to anyone else and don’t dog ear the pages.” He said.

“Thank you.” I said, voice nearly breaking. 

“Bring it back when you’re done. What’s your name, by the way?” He asked.

“Elfreda Beckett.” I replied.

“Steve Harris.” He held out his hand and I shifted the book under my arm and shook his hand. 

It felt like I’d made a friend. The phone on the checkout started ringing and Steve glanced at it and went to answer it. He waved at me when he answered it and I took this as my cue to leave. I walked home, clutching the book and my bag. When I got home I realised that I wanted to have friends. The people in my old streams talked to each other and called each other ‘friend.’ I wanted that. 

I sat on the floor, eating Fruit Loops from the box and I put the box down and searched my handbag. The number that Leila had given me was still in there. I started typing a message to her:

“Hey, Leila, it’s me, Elfie. You said to message so I am.”

I wondered if she’d reply. I ate some more cereal and contemplated what I’d do today. It was only eleven and I’d barely done anything. I guessed I should have lunch soon. My phone beeped and I put down my box of cereal. It was a message:

“Hey, thanks for the text. Didn’t think you would after I nearly ran you over.”

At the end of her text was a laughing/crying face. I was surprised when she messaged again.  
“Wht you up 2 today? Wanna meet at Starbucks for a coffee?”

I thought about my lunch options of eating some chicken flavoured ramen noodles and decided this was infinitely better. 

“She won’t show up. Why would she?” 

Go away, Mom. I messaged Leila back and agreed to meet her there. I put the cereal away and ignored the fact that my chest was constricting. I left the apartment and once again stopped to look at my neighbour’s apartment. It didn’t seem like he was home and for some reason, I was disappointed. The walk to Starbucks was only about fifteen minutes according to my phone. I got there and found Leila outside. She was wearing a pair of denim shorts and a t-shirt. It was an outfit I’d never have been allowed to wear. Mom used to vet all clothing choices. They had to be modest even though they were what she’d called ‘emo style.’ 

Leila saw me and rushed over. Before I could stop her, she hugged me. I wasn’t sure how to respond. I’d only ever hugged my Mom. I lifted my arms and hugged back and was surprised by how natural it felt. Leila pulled back, smiling. 

“Let’s go get that caffeine.” She grinned.

Starbucks was full of people. There were people sitting around chatting. Leila walked and I followed, unsure of how to order here. It was a whole new environment to traverse. I glanced around. Two girls in the corner looked at me and whispered to each other. Leila noticed and looked at me.

“Do you know them?” She asked, picking up a sandwich . I copied her.

“No,” I replied. Should I tell her about the Youtube thing? “I do have a Youtube channel. Maybe it’s that.”

Leila laughed a little. We ordered out drinks and found a seat. She pulled out her phone. She typed something in and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“When ya said Youtube, I thought maybe you had a small channel, but you have 1 million subs, geeze, that’s an achievement.” She laughed again. 

“Yeah, to be honest, my Mom ran the channel.” I replied.

“So, it’s something you and yer mom do together?” 

“We used to.”

At this Leila’s parted her lips and I could see her processing it all. She wore her emotions, not being afraid to let her concern show.

“When did she pass away?” Leila asked, I was shocked by how much she could discern.

“A week ago Monday. She had a massive heart attack.” I stammered, and I felt my eyes sting.

I didn’t want to cry in front of Leila. Her hand reached out and touched my shoulder. The gesture was comforting and it made me smile through the tears. Leila didn’t say anything else. When she did speak again she seemed to be looking for a way to phrase it, 

“So, what was yer mom like?” 

“She could be kind, but she could also be cruel.” I said.

I didn’t want to reveal the extent of Mom’s betrayal because it was still so fresh. It was like an open wound that was still healing and to tell people too soon would be bad. We ate our sandwiches and sipped our coffee. I found that I enjoyed the company more than I did the coffee. Maybe that was the allure of Starbucks. It wasn’t the coffee, it was the people you shared it with. 

I asked Leila questions about her and James. She opened up about how they met as kids when both were forced to take piano lessons, how they’d been best friends and then how they’d started dating. Through all the ups and downs, they’d stayed together and had moved into their own apartment this year. At the time I was streaming in my bedroom, Leila had got a relationship and she and James had gone on holiday to London. They had a dog named Buster, a labrador retriever. To Leila, it was the norm. To me, it sounded amazing. I realised, with some veiled annoyance, that Mom had cushioned me from the world and I’d missed so much.

Leila asked about the streams and I revealed how I would often stream for my fans. Leila also played video games. I mostly stuck to Pokemon games, Super Mario and Kirby. Mom had a strict policy on games with violence or anything she dubbed inappropriate. Eventually Leila stopped talking about video games, but promised to recommend some to me.

“Listen, you should come to a party we’re having.” She said, finishing her latte.

“A party?” I’d never been to a party before. Not one with other people the same age as me.

“Yeah, Jamie and I are throwing it for a friend of his. It’s his 23rd birthday.” She replied. 

“And you’re inviting me?” I was stunned.

“For sure. If you want I can help you pick out a new outfit.” She smiled.

I definitely wanted that. I wanted to break away from the version of me that Mom had created. This was my chance to start over. Leila seemed thrilled when I agreed.

“Let me be a basic bitch, hang on.” She grinned, and held up her phone.

She leaned into me and I realised she was taking a photo of the two of us. I smiled and for the first time in a long time, my cheeks didn’t hurt from faking it. I smiled because I was genuinely happy. I hoped it would last. Leila sent me the photo and the details of the party.

“Plus one.” She said. “Means you can bring someone else.”

I didn’t know anyone else that well. We left Starbucks and Leila hugged me one last time, promising to meet me next Thursday after work to pick out some party clothes. I walked home and when I got back, the curtains on the apartment above were open. I went to my door and unlocked it. 

Once again, I sat on my kitchen floor and scrolled through my social media. All the photos on Instagram were taken by Mom. I deleted each picture. I went to Twitter. Each tweet was Mom promoting my channel and replying to fans as me. I wiped Twitter clean. I would start again. I left Twitter and went back to Instagram where I shared the photo of me and Leila. I captioned it ‘here’s to new friends.’ I hashtagged it and smiled. Comments started pouring in. A lot of people commented; some were curious, others wondered why I had deleted all the other pictures. I would come back, but it’d be my own pace and it’d be content that I wanted to upload.


End file.
